Crisped + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 2) (37 page)

He knew this. He knew it wasn’t smart. Wasn’t safe.

And yet.

He hoped.

As Dead Rabbits pounded on the locked metal door behind him, as snow fell around his face, as his breath billowed from his mouth in a steady stream, he
hoped
. They had made it this far. Most of them. They had survived impossible odds. Lucas was at his side. Bad Dog was at his side. SIRS was somewhere above him, and he had
hope
.

And then Richie’s watch beeped.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

“Move,” Cavalo said. “Now.”

And they did.

The wind picked up, flinging snow in their faces as the walkway swung dizzily. Bad Dog whined low in his throat, Richie panted high and quick. Lucas took a stumbling step at a particular vicious gust of wind and grabbed the handrail. Cavalo pushed him along, forcing himself to stare straight ahead, not wanting to look down. He’d never had a fear of heights before, but knowing that only a couple inches of metal separated them from falling to their deaths certainly wasn’t helping.

He kept his head cocked, trying to hear anything above the wind. The sound of gunfire. Screams. Explosions. Anything. He didn’t know where they were in relation to where they’d seen SIRS working at the top of the dam. He hadn’t thought the others would wage a full-on assault, but he’d expected something by now.

Unless they’d already been caught.

If that was the case, they were probably already dead.

The end of the walkway led to a stone staircase up the side of the dam. The steps were snow covered. No footprints. It didn’t mean no one had been there or that there was no one above them, but it was something, at least.

Without looking back, he held up a hand, warning the others to stay where they were. He crouched along the wall and took one step at a time until he was level with the top of the dam. He took a breath and peered over the edge.

Dworshak stretched out before them. The entire length of it.

They were on the wrong side of the dam.

“Fuck,” Cavalo muttered as he looked for signs of any movement. He could see perhaps thirty yards before the distance faded into white. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing here.

He turned back toward the others. “We’re on the wrong fucking side,” he said. He could still hear the Dead Rabbits banging on the door that led into Dworshak, though it was faint.

Richie groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. “That’s okay, though, right? We can just leave here and cross down the river somewhere. Meet in Kamiah. Like we planned.”

They could. It would be easy. It would be the smart thing to do.

But—

“SIRS,” Cavalo said. “I can’t leave SIRS.”

“
What
? Cavalo, he’s
just
a robot—”

Bad Dog snarled at Richie, who took a step back. Even Lucas glared as much as he could with his face beaten halfway to hell.

“He’s my friend,” Cavalo said quietly. “I can’t leave him.”

“But we have a way
out
of here!”

“For how long?” Cavalo asked, standing tall and taking a step down toward Richie. “How long do you think it’ll take before they realize Lucas is gone? They’ll come for him again. They won’t stop. Cottonwood will be Grangeville before the sun rises tomorrow.”

“We had a
plan
,” Richie snapped. “Get in. Get Lucas. Get out. Why the fuck are you deviating from that?”

“Your father is going to set off an EMP grenade. They are going to
attack
if they haven’t done so already. We have to help them.” Knowing Hank and Aubrey, they would be stalling as much as possible, hoping to give Cavalo enough time to get in and get out.

Not leaving Tin Man
, Bad Dog said, growling at Richie.

“You can go,” Cavalo said. “I won’t judge you. I won’t stop you. You can take Lucas and—”

Lucas bared his teeth at Cavalo.

“—or go by yourself. Get to Kamiah. Wait the two days.”

“Fuck,” Richie muttered. “God, fuck this whole thing. Fuck this whole day.”

The pounding on the door stopped.

They waited.

It didn’t pick up again.

“Shit,” Richie breathed. “They’re going to go the other way. They’re going to come out on the other side. My dad is—”

“We have to move
now
,” Cavalo said. “Make up your mind. You’re either with us or you’re gone. We don’t have time anymore.”

Richie laughed hollowly and then surprised the hell out of Cavalo. “I’ve followed you this far, haven’t I? Might as well see how this shit ends up. Besides. Dad would kill me if I chumped out now.” He straightened his shoulders and shook his head. “I’m in.”

Bad Dog licked his hand.

Lucas grinned, bloody and wide.

Cavalo said, “Let’s go.”

BEFORE SIRS
was taken, he’d told Cavalo that Dworshak was over half a mile long. Cavalo almost found it impossible to believe they’d covered that much distance in the time they’d spent underneath the dam, but then it should have been impossible that his dead son had led them to Lucas. Cavalo no longer had the time nor strength to question the things he did not understand. Either his mind was broken or it wasn’t. Either they’d survive today or they wouldn’t.

They ran south along the edge of the dam. The huge reservoir behind it was edged with ice, the landscape covered in white. The snow falling was thick, and the wind was sharp. It wasn’t a blizzard, not like they’d seen when fleeing Cottonwood, but it wasn’t letting up.

The top of the dam was strewn with large metal crates and shipping containers, long since rusted out. They passed a truck, sitting on its axles, a faded legend on its door:
ARMY CORP O ENG N RS.

They were in sight of the spillways on the right when they heard the first voices. A row of single-story buildings rose up on the left side. Lights were on in two of the buildings, and Cavalo wondered just how long they’d been here. How long the Dead Rabbits had known of Dworshak. How long Patrick had been planning this. And why did it take the Dead Rabbits so long to get to Dworshak in the first place?

They crept up to the side of a couple of shipping containers, Lucas and Richie on one and Cavalo and Bad Dog five feet away on another. They pressed their backs against the cold metal…. Bad Dog pushed up against Cavalo, growling quietly as he muttered about bad guys and blood and—

“Jesus Christ,” Richie whispered. He raised a shaking hand and pointed past the spillway.

From where they’d stood on the ridge before entering the dam, Bill had pointed out the crack in Dworshak. But the extent of it must have been blocked by the debris on top of the dam.

It looked long and wide along the front, but it was nothing compared to the top of the dam. Even through the snow and the milling Dead Rabbits (of which Cavalo had counted at least twenty), they could see the width of the break was extensive, far more than they’d thought.

It had to be ten feet across. Probably more. Not to mention they couldn’t see how deep it was, or how far it extended down back of Dworshak, toward the reservoir.

They’d never be able to cross it. Not even with a running start.

Which meant the others couldn’t cross to them, either.

“What do we do?” Richie whispered. “Go back?”

Cavalo didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do. He’d gotten them this far, but odds were stacking against them higher and higher. He probably couldn’t—

Bad Dog tensed at his side and tried to pull away. Cavalo barely got his good hand into Bad Dog’s scruff before the dog tried to run toward the Dead Rabbits.

Tin Man!
Bad Dog said, struggling to get away from Cavalo.
SIRS! It’s us! It’s me! Your fleabag!

Cavalo pulled him close, feeling the dog’s heart thundering underneath his hands.

You have to let me go!
Bad Dog said, eyes wide and sad as he stared at Cavalo.

“I can’t,” Cavalo said and looked back around the container.

And there he was. Sentient Integrated Response System. Standing tall. Moving with staccato jerks of the joints in his arms and legs as if his body was stiff and unyielding.

And his eyes. The bulbs that made up his eyes.

The deep red of submission. One of the Dead Rabbits pointed toward a large chunk of cement, broken and crumbling. The robot didn’t hesitate as he reached down and hefted it back up, tossing it over the side of the dam on the reservoir side. There was a crack of ice. A splash of water.

“He’s sick,” Cavalo whispered to Bad Dog. “He’s sick.”

You can make him better
, Bad Dog insisted.
You said you could make him better.

And Cavalo had. He racked his brain, trying to remember the command chain, something they’d discussed over and over again until SIRS was sure the words were embedded into Cavalo as much as they were into the robot. SIRS had said, “If this
ever
happens again,
that’s
what to say.
That’s
how to bring me back.
That’s
how to bring me home.”

And he couldn’t remember for the life of him.

The bees covered it, their legs and wings rubbing over the words, keeping it hidden. They said,
It’s okay, Cavalo. It’s fine. You don’t need this. We’ll keep it safe and warm. Just run. Run, run, run away.

It was all Wormwood here.

He would remember. He had to.

Or he wouldn’t. And things would happen anyway.

He formulated. He planned, in that cold, calculating way that he could. His hands tightened briefly around Bad Dog, and the dog shuddered in his grip, knowing his MasterBossLord was still in there but hidden.

Submerged.

Cavalo was a killer.

And there were monsters here to be killed.

Lucas grinned at him, knowing.

Richie whispered, “What do we do?” and Cavalo wondered if he was dead weight, because it was easier to plan for three others instead of four. Three of them meant something to him. The fourth did not.

Even so, he remembered his promise to Bill. He remembered the way Richie had shot the giant in the back of the head. The fourth might not mean something to him, but he didn’t deserve to die here either.

“How many?” he asked Lucas.

Lucas flashed his hands twice, and then held up four fingers.

Twenty-four.

“Patrick?”

He hesitated, then shook his head.

Cavalo wasn’t surprised. Either Patrick was hidden in the buildings along the reservoir, or he was—

There was a shout.

Cavalo and Bad Dog stilled.

Four more Dead Rabbits came up another set of stairs off the side of the dam. The others stopped and turned toward them. Cavalo couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but he knew it had to be about them, that these were the ones that had chased them through Dworshak, the ones they’d trapped behind the door. The one in the lead gesticulated wildly, and the other Dead Rabbits tensed.

The wind died, and he heard two words snapped out in a command.

“Call Patrick.”

A Dead Rabbit nodded and raced toward one of the buildings.

Patrick wasn’t here. At least, not on the top of the dam.

Cavalo didn’t know if he felt relieved or not.

The robot stood off to the side, waiting for a command.

The Dead Rabbits gathered together in the snow, drawing weapons. Guns. Knives. One carried a rocket launcher. Some looked toward where Cavalo and the others were hidden, but they kept low and out of sight. They were awaiting orders.

Cavalo wished he’d saved one of the grenades. It would have been so easy just to lob it over right in the middle of them. A grenade. Or a landmine. Or a—

Bakalov. Richie had a Bakalov slung around his back.

“Richie,” he hissed, and the boy looked over, eyes wide. “Did you bring shells for the rifle?”

Richie fumbled with the Bakalov, almost dropping it as he lifted it up off his neck. Cavalo waited for it to fall to the ground, to accidentally discharge and lodge a bullet in his foot. Or, at the very least, alert the Dead Rabbits to their position.

Richie caught it before it fell, blushing furiously, his breath pouring out of his mouth in steady white streams. “One,” he said. “I have one. It’s all we could find. After Cottonwood.”

It would have to do.

He wondered where the others were.

He wondered if they were still alive.

Or maybe
, the bees said,
they realized how futile this was and ran back to the prison. They realized they were following a madman into darkness and said
fa de de, there will be no death for me
. Because haven’t they
suffered
enough because of you, James? Haven’t they all just—

The gun was cold in his hands. Lucas handed him the shell. He slid it home. The Dead Rabbits were distracted, looking toward a building as another shouted out to them, “He’s coming.”

Cavalo knew who was coming.

He said, “Don’t let any of them give orders to SIRS. Kill as many of the motherfuckers as you can.”

He stood.

The snow swirled around him as Lucas and Bad Dog snarled, as Richie whimpered and gripped his pistol tightly.

He took aim.

His finger tightened on the trigger and—

Movement. On the far side of the crack down the middle of the dam. Brief. Just a flash and then it was gone.

His skin itched.

He told himself it was nothing, to pull the trigger.

The sky above felt electric-sharp, and his finger twitched.

Then—

He couldn’t make out a face. Couldn’t even see any defining features, but he knew it was Aubrey. Aubrey, sweet Aubrey, climbing on top of a container across the divide, rifle in hand, lying flat on her stomach and inching toward the edge.

The others moved in the snow, along the edges and shadows. Bill. Alma. Hank.

He didn’t know if they knew Cavalo and the others were there…. He didn’t know why they’d waited. He didn’t know what they’d planned.

A brief flash of light, then another, in quick succession.